


The Chemin des Dames

by MaeLovesStories



Series: Lost in Translation [6]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - World War I, M/M, Mention of Death, Open Ending, Prompt Fic, mention of self injury (background characters), on the French side
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-27 09:21:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20043637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaeLovesStories/pseuds/MaeLovesStories
Summary: Zoro was watching with a distracted eye the smoke dancing in the sunbeam...





	The Chemin des Dames

**Author's Note:**

> From a prompt by Wado21 (on ff.net): Zoro and Sanji, two Poilus in the trenches of the World War I, waiting for the next assault.

Sitting on a canvas bag filled with soil to isolate himself a little from the mud, Zoro was watching with a distracted eye the smoke dancing in the sunbeam. The rain had just stopped. It was a little strange that the weather was going on like this. Nature paid no attention to what was happening on this earth. In fact, it had almost disappeared. The sky was empty. No birds were singing. They were sometimes visited by crows and other scavengers, but the food was so plentiful here that they often had their belly way too full to risk themselves on the plateau. There were still some weeds that resisted trampling, but this morning's rain would surely overcome it.

Nobody was speaking. They weren't hearing anything from the Boches’ side either, so close yet so untouchable. Morale was low. Men were dying in numbers, but not a centimeter was taken back from the enemy. Everything seemed so vain. Zoro was tired. In those moments when he had nothing else to do but think, he dreamed of the end of the war. He dreamed of a small farm he could run, ideally with the man sitting next to him.

His blond hair were sparkling in the sun. He had taken off his helmet and was smoking his umpteenth cigarette of the day. At least, the smell of tobacco covered the nauseating smell that hovered down here. He was freshly shaved, something that had not happened for many days. The mud was covering his pale blue uniform, like all of them here. His features were drawn. The little sleep they managed to get was invaded by nightmares. Those who said they didn’t have any were liars. No one could escape unharmed from what they were living.

Zoro sometimes wondered in what state he would be by the end. At least if he came out of it alive. Would he be scarred for life? Or would time do its work and would he forget all the horrors he had witnessed?

He was no longer counting the number of corpses, fallen brothers, mutilated bodies. The smell of putrefying flesh, of hundreds of men living in promiscuity, sometimes sick. The boredom. The mud. The fear every moment of being the next, of not finishing the day. The fear, especially, to see Sanji fall.

He had become his only support. The light in the dark. The hope. A smile, even exhausted, even forced, was enough to appease Zoro. A look. A hand on the shoulder. Every small gesture they allowed themselves to make and which could be considered as a companionship. But Sanji was much more than a regimental companion for him. They had never said anything, never tried anything, for fear of getting caught. There was no privacy here. Not a moment when they could be alone. The soldiers were cramming as best they could into the narrow trench. They ate together, slept together. They fought together and died together. The war annihilated the notion of individual. They were no more than a regiment, a number. The cannon fodder of which the officers were disposing at wish. A word, an order, and they were running towards death without daring to object.

There were whispers. More and more. Some injured themselves voluntarily to return home, preferring to live in a poor state than die here. They had talked about it sometimes, with Sanji. But deep down, they both knew they were ready to die for the homeland. And it was better not to think too much of what the motherland would do for them.

A harmonica sounds a little further away. Sanji stirred on his bag, chased away a fly with a wave of his hand. He swung his cigarette butt off above them. Then he sighed.

Zoro glanced around them. Nobody was paying attention. Some were writing letters for their wives or families. Others were sleeping. A kid was mumbling in his corner, his eyes haggard.

He took off his helmet and moved closer to Sanji. Huddled together, they took advantage of this rare moment of intimacy. Zoro was longing to take him in his arms. To kiss him. He wanted to take him by the hand and drag him far, far away from here. Sanji put his head on his shoulder and Zoro's breathing stopped for a few seconds. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine another landscape. A flowery countryside. A singing river. The sea. Sanji loved the sea. He had promised him that they would go, after.

A dirty, rough hand closed on his, squeezing it tightly. What could he be thinking of? Of the after, like him? Or was he wondering the reason for all this madness? Were some plots of land worth so many deaths?

Zoro didn’t even know why they were fighting anymore. Was the goal of the all-powerful ones to limit the damage? Or to keep their pride intact at the risk of seeing the last man fall, leaving the country empty and dead? Until when will all this last? Who would put an end to this cursed war? Would it really be so terrible to become German?

A word spread through the trench, cutting off his unpatriotic thoughts and provoking the agitation of the soldiers.

Tomorrow.

The next assault would be tomorrow. How many will not come back? Would Zoro be part of them? He opened his eyes again and exchanged a terrified yet determined look with Sanji. One thing was certain, if he were to die tomorrow, he would die by his side and with a weapon in his hand.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Horizon](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20057908) by [Chionee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chionee/pseuds/Chionee)


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